Monday, September 16, 2013

One of the staples of early childhood literature in the English tongue, which perseveres into the current generation and across country borders as my experience in a Berliner bookshop proves, is the Little Bear series by the American, Else Holmelund Minarik.

"Top of Zürich on Uetliberg Uto Kulm (Switzerland)",
January 10, 2010
By Roland zhA random yet atmospheric picture of bears which is meant to invoke topical beariness whilst not clashing with our mental recollection of Sendakian beariness. The cover of Little Bear's Visit, with Sendak's bear, can be found at Google Books.Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Accompanied by the illustrations of Maurice Sendak, it has a gentility, a warmth and serenity which are heartening. In the sparing use of colour in the illustrations and of verbiage in the text, it is an endorsing example of the modernist tendency to pare away fuss and feathers. In this case it achieves, in the end, a truthful-feeling simplicity.

Little Reads

Little Reads

The best way to keep chemical attacks from reoccurring is to finally use measures that the UN put in place to prosecute people whom we suspect have perpetrated them, suggests a doctor who is working in Syria. He also describes the wearisome repetition of ultimately senseless questions from journalists after each chemical attack within the past five years.

I wish journalists would stop asking such questions because the world, which didn’t care about what happened then, will not care about what will happen tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

[...]

“What happened on the day after the massacre?” the journalist continues. There is a span of several hours that I can’t remember. It seems that my mind has tried not to remember those twelve hours. It is very painful to remember that day. So please stop asking me about it.

I first heard of Madame de Lafayette's column when President Nicolas Sarkozy lamented that her novel Princesse de Clèves was read by reluctant school pupils like his younger self.

Now a second one of de Lafayette's works has gained a political significance. La Princesse de Montpensier is entering France's literature baccalaureate programme to bring an end to a long absence of female authors.

Under this Guardian article, the readers' comments, while sometimes harsh or arbitrary, are also insightful and witty.

(But I don't feel drawn to either of Madame de Lafayette's books after reading these descriptions.)

A sober, but blunt and subliminally angry, look at the major decisions, in their style and in their substance, that the current United States government has taken since its inauguration in January.

The writer shares and illustrate the far-ranging unease with which Americans see the new (dis)order in Washington, Americans even in the political circles of which the Administration is usually a semi-symbiotic element.

Her very first lines are, to borrow the language of naval warfare, a 'shot across the bows':

Donald Trump’s substance-free approach to governing may be comfortable for him but it’s caused his presidency big problems. To take the most prominent example, the health care bill: